Dropping the Ball

3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Kaitlyn

I struggle to find my composure as I stand here in front of Micah Croft. No luck, so I fake it by offering him a smile.

Had Madison sneezed when we walked out of her house today? I learned about a Bengali superstition in Bangladesh this summer that sneezing when someone walks out of the house brings bad luck. Running into Micah, unprepared, is the worst luck I’ve had in ages.

“Hello, Micah.” I can’t fake my emotions, but I’m a pro at hiding them. I’m sure my face shows about as much life as my bare walls do. Curse those bare walls and this moment they’ve led me to.

“You know each other.” Madison acts like I’ve just won a jackpot, not run into a former classmate after several years.

“Micah was the valedictorian of my class,” I say. “We go way back.”

Madison’s eyes widen for a split second. She’d been out of the house for three years by the time I graduated, but even she had heard my furious rants about having to settle for salutatorian at the last minute. She keeps her smile in place. “I didn’t realize you went to Hillview, Micah.”

She’s saying this for me, letting me know that she’s aware of the situation— now .

“High school doesn’t usually come up when people are looking to hire an architect.” Micah’s tone is relaxed. Of course it’s relaxed. It’s always relaxed. It was one of the most irritating things about him. The most irritating was that gleam in his light brown eyes, like he was laughing at me but I didn’t know why, and it’s happening now. Again.

“Guess not. So lucky we ran into you today,” Madison says. “You would have met next week anyway, but now we’ve got a jump on introductions.”

Did Micah know I was involved with Threadwork when Madison hired him? Would knowing he’d eventually work with me have made him more or less likely to take the job?

“Yeah, lucky,” Micah repeats. The trace of humor in his tone makes me realize that I have been standing here barely two feet from his muscles, almost frozen, for at least a full minute.

Crap, it’s high school all over again.

I take a step back so fast that the heel of my boot catches on the edge of the jute rug we’re standing on and I stumble. I probably would have landed on my butt except Micah grabs my elbow and holds me until I’m steady.

High school. All. Over. Again.

“You good?” he says, and even though his expression is concerned, I have no doubt there’s another laugh lurking in there.

“I’m great.” I smooth my hands down the tweed of my slacks and force my mind to focus. I’m an adult now. With an important job. And nothing to prove. And he’s standing here in jeans and a beat-up-looking gray T-shirt. In fact, I am Micah’s client, which means for right now I’m essentially his boss.

This helps me locate my spine, which I straighten the tiniest bit, as if it will close the height gap between us. I’m five feet six, but even in three-inch heels, Micah towers over me. I hate noticing all these things when I don’t want to. How he’s filled into that height, shoulders and chest broad, jeans skimming over muscled thighs. Dark hair tidier now, but still on the verge of being too long. He’s Jacob Elordi minus three inches and make his jaw normal. His reedy emo teen self might have appealed to adolescent tortured poets, but his grown self?

His grown self is so much worse. Not reedy. Not emo. Very, very grown.

Boss , I remind myself. I can handle this.

“You’re an architect,” I say. “I didn’t know that’s what you were interested in.”

“You didn’t know much about me at all.” He says it without any bite.

Madison’s eyes dart between us. She can read a room better than anyone I know, but there’s more history here than she realizes, so I need to steer the conversation.

“My sister suggested we come check out Remix for some interior work I need done.” I glance around his showroom. Even though it’s a galling sort of irony that Madison thinks Micah Croft’s aesthetic would fit me best, I’m satisfied to see she’s wrong. It’s a smaller showroom, but it’s still filled with conflicting styles, a hodgepodge of pieces a more generous person might call “eclectic.”

Design Row is basically an upscale mall except they call the spaces “showrooms,” and it’s only for home interiors. The showroom next door is nothing but kitchen faucets, and the showroom across from Remix Aesthetic is all ceiling fans.

“Is it hard to compete with Only Fans over there?” Madison asks.

I refrain from rolling my eyes. Sure, I thought the joke, but of course she has no problem making it.

Micah laughs, a low, rich rumble, and the hairs at the nape of my neck stand up.

I can’t believe my body is having unauthorized reactions to him after all this time. I have got to get out of here. “You have some interesting work, but I need a different direction. It was good to see you.”

I turn to leave, but Madison snags my wrist and gives it a gentle tug. “Since we’ve lucked into running into the owner himself, why don’t you show us some of your favorite pieces? I’m thinking statement pieces, like a dining table to start. Once we have that, I can pick colors and accents to complement it.”

“Always a good move.” Micah fixes me with a thoughtful look.

I want to twitch. Scratch suddenly itchy spots. Shift from foot to foot. Instead, I slide my hands into my pockets like the spotlight of his light brown eyes isn’t pinning me in place.

As if he’s reached a conclusion, he gives a brief nod and switches his gaze to Madison. “Scandinavian, natural textures, muted tones?”

Madison’s eyes dart from his to mine to his again, a small smile curving her lips. “Got it in one,” she says in a tone of approval.

What? No. No approval. I do not approve of my sister and my high school archnemesis summing up my style in a single guess. I do not approve of Micah’s tone when he says “muted.” It feels like an insult.

I curl my hands into fists in my pockets where they can’t see me do it. “I’d prefer something besides fancy IKEA.”

Micah smiles. “I offer literally the opposite of disposable furniture. Why don’t we go take a look?”

Without waiting for an answer, he turns and heads toward the other side of the showroom while Madison mouths, Be nice .

Easy for her to say. Her past did not just come back to haunt her.